Long Way for Gold
by nvouix
Summary: [AU, Summary included.] "This isn't the life for me, Matthew. It isn't for you either." He gripped the age worn leather-bound in his hands. "I'm going to chase these silly stories and make them mine. I'll find us gold any way I have to. Even as a pirate."
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note:** Hello! Welcome to my first written APH fanfiction. I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed imagining it all. I hope to update weekly, at least. Stay tuned for more!

**Quick Summary: **Alfred and his brother, both orphaned at a young age, were taken in by Mistress Elizaveta and raised in her whorehouse. On the evening of their twenty-third birthdays, Alfred makes a pricey mistake. To escape the consequences and ensure a better future for he and his brother, Alfred abandons the whorehouse he grew up in and runs to the only easy exit available in a port city-a ship waiting at the dock. Chasing his childhood fantasy of living a pirate's life, Alfred stows away on a suspicious looking ship. This is the tale of his time on the notorious Twisted Serpent, his life under the command of Captain Kirkland, and the impending chaos he comes to know as he faces off with southern sea armies, stoic northern royalty and the mystery kingdom to the far east.

_The pairings in this story will include: Russia/America, Spain/Romano, Germany/Italy, Prussia/Canada, France/UK, and others to be announced._

_I will also be including characters based upon fan-depictions of Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales._

**Warnings: **Use of vulgar language, **sexual assault**, though it is not detailed.

* * *

_The pages smelled of the ocean upon the shore, rotting upon the sand. Their colours warped, stained by age and softened with the wear of fingers rustling their corners. If you were to drop the spine and watch carefully as it met the floor, you would notice the mess of sand that escaped. Even the once pristine lettering carefully scrawled out in thin lines with the richest ink was now blotted, faded, simple words washed away. _

_But Alfred absolutely loved the damn thing. He couldn't remember where it had come from, if it had been a gift or if he had swiped it from the shelf of an unsuspecting merchant-as he was prone to do-but he decided he didn't care. It was his and it was amazing. Ragged image and all, with the title long faded and the author unknown, Alfred held the ratchet book tight to his heart as a precious treasure. For it was what was inside that he truly adored. _

_The journal tales of a young man who fought his way through the ordinary, stole and plundered to support his life, won his home among the ocean deep and discovered his weight in gold. _

_It was a pirate's tale that Alfred loved, a tale that he dreamed of among the streets and the basements and the foggy eyes that towered above him. _

_It was a pirate's tale just for him._

* * *

**Chapter One:**

Alfred had a nasty habit of oversleeping.

It wasn't difficult to do, living in a dank cellar underneath a heavy burden and kept away from the light of the day. The only light flickering in the room was that of a lamp hung from the sturdiest rafter above, lit with a candle that had long since become a pool of wax and a floating wick. Some would think the footsteps above, always busying about, more than likely heavy, and no doubt enough to shake the room and send flurries of sand to dance across the stale air, would be enough to wake anyone.

But not Alfred, no. In the right corner of the room, damp and rotten, was his mattress pressed tight against the wall. He could sleep there for days if he was allowed. If you watched his curled up mass of torn sheets and ratty cloth for a few moments, you would likely see a tuft of sun kissed hair peeking out and hear the slight rumble of his snoring.

Now was just another time that he had overslept, curled up in his corner and oblivious to the rush of footsteps coming down the stairs. Every step shook the plank-board walls and reverberated throughout the wood and sand cellar, sand snuck it's way through every possible crevice and escaped in a burst.

Finally, it was Matthew who swung open the door to he and his brother's shared room, his hand held to his mouth as he coughed and pushed against the stubborn hinge.

"Alfred, it's past noon, how are you still asleep?" the frustration leaking through his teeth was common. He received no response from his brother on the bed. With a grunt, he entered the room and reached for the hanging lamp, taking it by it's handle and holding it in his path. He stepped around protruding nails in the floor and strange knick-knacks strewn hazardously around Alfred's space. He could've tripped on the old book hiding at the very edge of his mattress. He frowned. _Expects me to share his mess, eh?_

"Alfred". He tried again, nudging the mattress with his foot. Alfred snored on peacefully, sheet pulled up tight to his chin, knees to his chest. _It would almost be cute if he wasn't an ass._ Matthew gave up the kind waking quickly, shoving his foot into the small of his brother's back.

Alfred choked on his next sound, jolting awake, springing out of his tight-packed ball and smacking his arms on the wall. He cursed and pulled them to his chest, cradling them as he rolled onto his back.

"Matt...that was a dick move," he whined, drawing out his syllables. His brother rolled his eyes and turned away, returning the lamp to it's hanging post.

"I tried the nice way first, Al."

"Well, you're too quiet."

"You're too dense." Alfred bit his tongue and pouted, still laying on his back and staring up at the rafters as they shook under the weight of too many feet. He blinked slowly, clearing the sleep haze from his eyes and saying a sad goodbye to dreams of pretty ladies and pristine beaches. He sat up slowly, balling up the sheet he had slept with and tucking it into the corner of his bed. He reached for the book at the edge of his mattress, and slipped it under the dirty sheet.

"Good mornin', Mattie." he grinned at his brother as he jumped up from his mattress, patting at his ragged clothes to smooth out the temporary kinks.

"It's past noon, Al." Matthew corrected on his way to the doorway, but succumbed to the infectious grin his brother gave. Smiling, he stopped before leaving and turned back to his brother. "Mistress Elizaveta is asking for us to help in the streets today, try to flatten your hair." Alfred snorted.

"Yeah, alright. I'll be right on that." He stretched his arms high above his head, fingertips splayed out in the musty air.

"Ah, one more thing, Al?" Matthew started as he took his first steps out of the door and into the stairway, "Happy birthday."

Alfred dropped his arms to his sides and smiled. "Time for your punches, Mattie!" he sang, rushing across the cellar and pulling the stubborn door tight behind him with little effort. Matthew was already hurrying up the stairs as quickly as he could without full out running, while Alfred clambered up wildly behind him. They both laughed, even as Matthew pushed through the door into the large room above and Alfred fell into his side with a fist to his shoulder.

The building in which they lived under was owned by a beautiful woman who called herself Elizaveta. Rumours told that she came from wealth and luxury, once married to a pianist Lord who doted after her faithfully. How she ended up here, why she built this establishment from the inside out, no one could tell.

It was dimly lit inside, walls painted dark red, circular tables set about and satin sheets laid over their surfaces. A heavily stocked bar stood proudly in the very front of the large room, just after the hall that lead away to the main doors. Heavy drapes of varying colours decorated the walls, even following up the gold-adorned stairs to the second floor. There the drapes hung before solid oak doors, polished chocolate brown, and each leading into a room lined with velvet and pleasure. Currently, the bar was full. Men sat in each stool and drank raucously as the bar maids rushed about with pints of liquor and ale. They sloshed their drinks in their mugs and raised them to each other, speaking with voices that carried horrid breathe and shirts stained by...well. Even the multitude of tables filling the lower floor were all occupied, men alone or in pairs leaning against scantily clad women and whispering into their ears or pressing their mouths against their necks. It was loud, it was hard to take a step without colliding with another man, it was overwhelming. It was what Matthew and Alfred grew up with.

As they rough housed in the shadow of the door that led down into the cellar, hidden by dim light and drapery, a woman dressed in finery and with rolling brown hair that curved over her shoulders glided over to where they stood. Her heels clicked against the hard floor as she stepped, unheard by the brothers until she raised a single heel and stepped down with purpose. The boys jumped, Matthew's arms raised to fight off his brother's attacks.

"Boys...oh, _heel_, would you?" she snapped, arms folded under her breasts. The brothers gave up their squabbling and stood side by side, heads slightly bowed. "Good. As you can see, our guests have decided to show up in droves today. From dawn and I suspect until dusk, we'll be packed full. Two of my girls have already reported trouble." Matthew frowned and snuck a glance at his brother. Alfred's teeth clenched, his fingers curled into fists. He had another nasty habit of using more violence than he was allowed when escorting a rough man out of the whorehouse. "Matthew, I need you to fill in for Monaco as a bar maid." Matthew turned quickly to face Elizaveta.

"Mistress, I-" she interrupted him quickly with a raised hand.

"You've filled in for a woman before, and Monaco has to fill in for another. Besides, you look darling in a dress." Matthew frowned open mouthed, and Alfred reached behind to pat his back. "Alfred, you'll be on the street today. I need you to collect the girls out reeling, we have too many guests here to have any girls out." Alfred bit his lip and frowned. What about the girls here? Damn it, the men cause them trouble so often!

"Alfred." Mistress Elizaveta called his name sternly. Alfred looked up to meet her eyes, fists steady at his sides. "If you are involved in one more altercation, the proper action will be taken." With a hesitant pause, he nodded. Mistress Elizaveta smiled, clapping her hands together and holding them to her cheek. "Now that you both understand, good luck in your work today! May the Lord smile upon you, hmhm." She stepped away with a flurry, disappearing into the crowd of rowdy men and working girls. Matthew sighed deeply at her departure, head cast down and shoulders slumping.

"Why do I have to be cast as a woman?" he asked the heavy air. Alfred huffed and slapped his brother on the back, sending him forward a few steps, and smiled as his twin turned around with his nose scrunched.

"You're just too pretty, haha! Just like a girl."

"We're twins, Alfred."

"Shut up." Alfred crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his tongue out indignantly. "Your hair is longer and wavy, like Monaco's. Not my fault men like these want to see it covered in their cu-" Matthew cut his brother short with a forced dry heave, his face contorting and his hands flailing about.

"Ugh, no, Al. I do not need you to finish that sentence." He shivered and slapped his brother on the shoulder, ignoring Alfred's proud grin. "I have to go change. Good luck on the street. And I swear, Al, if you get into a fight again-"

"Relax, Mattie!" Alfred smiled and pushed his brother, walking him away from the hall entrance. "I'm just running out to pick up the girls. No trouble with girls."

"Mm..." Matthew frowned, doubt written across his face as clear as the sun's reflection in a bottle. Alfred almost felt a twinge of hurt. "Good luck, eh?"

Alfred smiled. "I don't need luck, Mattie! Now off you go, go get dolled up." Matthew scoffed as he hurried away into the crowd, disappearing quickly on his way to the bar.

Alfred hurried off in his own direction, passing the bar and entering the entrance hall. It was short, skinny, a tight passage lined with hooks and hangers that held the valuables of the men inside. Alfred liked to reach into a pocket or two and steal a few coins: somewhat out of spite, mostly out of wanting a few coins to himself. Most likely, he'd spend it while he was out collecting the girls, either on a snack or some trinket that caught his eye. He stepped into a ratty pair of shoes and slipped out of the main doorway as two men entered, ignored as they argued back and forth over frivolous things. On the street, Alfred was assaulted by the bright glare of the afternoon sun, perched high in it's throne above the world. He squinted as he made his way down the cobbled street, hands in his pants pockets and fingers turning the coins over in his fingers.

The street the whorehouse rested against was lined with store after store, too expensive for the common port folk that dominated this city, too cheap for the Lords and Ladies who passed through, but just right for the wannabe wealthy that scurried along like ants at Alfred's sides. He passed through quickly, no interest in the pretentious hat shops or stores filled with leather shoes and clothing decorated with gold thread. He only stopped as he approached a faded blue door, searching for a familiar sign in the adjacent window. He found it quickly and smiled, hand already on the knob of the door and twisting it to enter. He was met instantly by the smell of fresh Lavender, and a familiar young girl wandering the shelves.

Or at least, she was trying hard to make it look like she was wandering. Her hands brushed over the spines of books and the rough edges of raw crystals, her feet moving slowly down the aisle. But her eyes, bright green and ever-soft, were transfixed by the man behind the counter. They both shared the same shade of blonde hair cut short to their jaws, and at first Alfred had assumed they were related. That was months ago, and he had since learned that they indeed were not. But Lili, the girl he came to bring back to the whorehouse, had said he treated her kindly once when a man was trying to force himself on her. He had saved her and tied a purple ribbon in her hair that smelled like Lavender. She hadn't known he worked in a shop nearby, until Alfred decided it was his job to find her mysterious knight and spent days getting into all sorts of trouble until he stumbled across this little shop. Since then, Lili had visited the shop only to see the man, too afraid to speak to him but unwilling to let him go. Alfred was worried (and angered) by the chance that her clothing-a skirt slit high up the side, a wrap around her waist, and a scoop-neck blouse with no under cloth-was putting the mystery man off. It was obvious she was a whore.

"Lili!" he called out, making his way to her. She froze in her steps and glance up at Alfred, fingers lightly held over the tops of two crystals.

"Alfred...was I called back?" she asked quietly, eyes flickering between Alfred and the other man. She refused to openly mention her profession in his presence, and Alfred went along with her wishes.

"Mhm. Boss lady wants everyone back. Full house." he rocked back and forth on his heels, glancing about the store. Lili clutched her hands to her chest and stared at the floor.

"Ah. I understand. One- one moment, please, Alfred?" she pleaded without meeting his eyes. Alfred raised a brow, no idea what she could be asking for.

"Yeah, sure thing." He watched as she scurried past him, tripping on her feet as she made her way to the counter. No way. _Was she making a move?_

"Ex- excuse me, sir?" she asked quietly, voice trembling. The mystery man of hers turned with a questioning look, approaching the counter and placing his hands on either side.

"Finally decided to buy something?" Lili froze, her face lighting up like a wild flame. Alfred dropped his jaw. The guy couldn't have meant that in a rude way, right? Lili was shaking on her bare feet, and she poised to turn when Alfred shot out beside her and blocked her exit. He forced a smile and hoped it looked pleasant, discreetly poking Lili's side. She swallowed and held her hands tighter, still shaking.

"I- I apologize, if I've caused you trouble. I have- I would like to purchase that." she raised her dainty finger and pointed to the wall behind the man. He let no emotion show as he followed her direction and grasped a small trinket on the wall. He brought it back to the counter and placed it carefully in front of Lili. Alfred cocked his head to the side. A glass leaf?

_Ooh._

"Twenty Silver." Both Lili and Alfred visibly winced. Lili reached into her wrap and pulled out a handful of coins, spreading them out on the counter and counting them slowly. Alfred watched the man's face, preparing for anger, but he held a blank state. When her fingertip landed on the last coin, Lili frowned.

eighteen..." the man blinked. Alfred frowned as Lili curled in on herself. This wasn't the right way to talk to her mystery man. If only she had enough... Oh!

"Twenty." Alfred said, smiling as he pulled the coins from his pocket and dropped them on the counter. Lili jumped, staring up at Alfred. The man behind the counter shot him a glance, to which he only grinned.

"Thank you." the other man said, taking the coins from the counter and dropping them somewhere safe. Lili grasped the small trinket gently in her hands and held it to her heart. She smiled warmly at the man, who blinked once, twice, and then looked away as quickly as he could. Alfred hoped it was because Lili was too damn cute, and not because the sleeve to her blouse had slipped below her shoulder.

As the two turned to leave, the man dropped his hand to the counter, something hidden in his palm. "Ah..?" Lili wandered, leaning close. The man opened his palm to reveal a light pink ribbon, decorated with small flowers. Lili's smile could have put the dawn to shame as she took the ribbon in hand. The man coughed into his freed hand, not meeting her gaze.

"Have a good day, Lili."

At that, Lili practically sprinted from the shop with a glowing smile plastered across her small face, Alfred rushing to keep up with her.

"That was amazing, Lili!" he called after her.

"Oh, Alfred, I'm so happy- I can't slow down!" She giggled and Alfred laughed with her.

"Don't, let's see how far you can get!"

"Oh, not very..." she smiled at him over her shoulder, already slowing to a fast walk. Alfred matched her pace easily. "You helped me purchase this trinket, you didn't have to. I need to repay you somehow." Alfred ruffled Lili's hair, smiling at her disgruntled look.

"Nope. Not even my money anyway, haha. I'm guessing that's for who I think it is?"

Lili smiled, "Mhm. Matthew. It's the star leaf, remember? I spotted it a little while ago. I knew I had to get it for him." Alfred scoffed. Leave it to Mattie, always reeling in the ladies with his charm. Why do women always seem to like the softies?

"Yeah, he'll like that."

"Oh, I'm glad!" The two made their way calmly down the street, chatting as they went and smiling all the way. Alfred decided he would escort Lili back, as it was known that she became an easy target on her own. She was too kind to passerby, and men often attempted to take advantage. She may have been a whore, but Alfred and the girls didn't believe that was a free pass.

When they returned, Alfred led Lili inside and waited as she was bombarded by Mistress Elizaveta. Already, she had a guest waiting. It was odd as Alfred saw her seduce a man at one of the circular tables. He frowned as he watched her pull him away and into one of the velvet rooms upstairs. She had that little trinket hidden in her wrap.

Matthew watched him from behind the bar, frowning in his feminine gettup, cleaning a mug with his dirty apron skirt. He had a feeling something was going to happen.

"Alfred!" He called to his brother, who turned immediately and raised a hand.

"Yo!"

"Alfred, there are more girls than just Lili." he informed him carefully, though Alfred already knew that fact well. But his brother got the hint, and with a sigh, Alfred turned on his heel and set out to bring home the rest of the working girls.

It was only a few hours later, well into the evening, when the worst that could come transpired.

Alfred returned tired and bored, a slew of girls following in after him. The first floor was filled to the brim with twisting bodies and vulgar commotion. The girls stepped easily into their roles and set off tending to their guests, while Alfred stepped to the side and leaned heavily against the bar. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and unbuttoned his vest, his hair slicked back behind his ears and sweat on his brow.

"Damn. It's hot out there and hot in here!" he complained, resting his elbows on the bar top and swinging his head back. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to soak in the dim lighting and catch his breathe. When he opened his eyes, Matthew was leaning over him, feminine gettup perfected to a horrifying degree.

"You're stinking up the bar." he whispered.

"Like I'm any worse than they are," Alfred gestured to the other patrons, all lost in their drunk stupors, draping themselves over the bar top.

"Don't let them hear you, eh?" Matthew pulled away, turning to the barrels behind him. "On the house," he splashed a bit of ale into a small mug and placed it in front of his brother. Alfred hmm'ed and took the mug in his hand.

"Good little brother."

"We're twins."

Alfred brought the mug to his lips lazily and tipped it back.

"_**No, stop! You're hurting me- ah!"**_

Alfred choked on his drink, slamming the mug down onto the counter and grasping at his chest. Matthew rushed over and began to pound at his back, the screaming of a young girl in the background echoing throughout the first floor. The men lost in their pleasure began to mumble and blink, looking around, frowning, faces turning angry and the women servicing them growing wary. As Alfred coughed up the last of his ale, he pushed away from the bar and knocked away his brothers hands.

"No, Alfred, _don't!"_ Matthew yelled after him, but it was too late. Even as he tripped over his skirt rushing after his brother, Alfred was racing up the stairs to the second floor. The screaming led him to the farthest room, the only door still closed and without a girl standing frightened in the doorway. He slammed his shoulder into the oak door and it splintered as it tore open, the drapes surrounding shuddering with the force.

Lili was curled up on the floor, skirt torn away and wrap pulled tight around whatever she could manage to make it reach. A man stood above her with the length of his belt in one hand, her skirt in the other. His face was flushed, eyes hazy, hair and face caked in grease. Alfred launched himself at the man before he could register his presence, knocking him to the ground and pinning his arms with his knees. He twisted his fingers into a fist and pulled his arm taught, ready to snap. He released it with all of the force he had, knocking the man's nose off-kilter with a satisfying snap. Unfortunately, it was enough to break the man out of his stupor, and he shifted his weight to pin Alfred instead. The two rolled together and struck out when they could, interlocked like the vicious fighting of two snakes coiled around each other.

Two other girls rushed into the room in the heat of the moment, wrapping their arms around Lili and carrying her swiftly from the room. It was an absolute mess of torn cloth and blood as Mistress Elizaveta burst into the scene. She held a pistol in her hand, cocked it once, and fired a shot.

The bullet struck a hole in the floor boards just beside the two men fighting. They froze for one moment, two, and then readied to go at it again.

"_Enough, or the next one won't miss!"_ Mistress Elizaveta screamed, rushing in to push Alfred away from the man. They both separated.

"You," she turned first to the man who had struck Lili, "I do not tolerate abuse in my establishment. I do not tolerate taking more than what was agreed upon and what was paid for. If you get off by striking a woman's ass, take your interests elsewhere! Leave, _or I shoot!" _She threatened, and with a huff and a string of curses, the other man stormed out of the room. Alfred wiped his nose with his wrist, wincing at even the slightest pressure. Mistress Elizaveta caught his arm and violently pulled it away.

"_You." _she started, venom dripping from her painted lips, "I told you. I told you, one more time, _and there would be consequences. _Do you see what you've done? You have insulted a customer. You have beaten a customer. You have shifted the balance of who feels dominant in this establishment and chased away guests! Do you know what that means? Do you have even the least bit of ability to process what that means? You dim-witted, worthless street rat! _I will lose money because of this! One of my girls may be sold off because of this, to make up for the profit you just cost us!_"

Alfred snarled, and tore his arm from her grip. "He was _hurting her!_"

"_And I am the one who will handle these instances, not you and your self-righteous hero complex!"_ Mistress Elizaveta spat at Alfred, slapping the side of his face where a violet bruise was already blooming. Alfred bit his tongue, and stars flickered in his eyes. "This can not be forgiven. Wait in your cellar, until I decide what to do with you." She stalked from the room, dress swishing after her every step. Alfred stared at the floor, waiting for the starry night in his eyes to fade away, so that he could see again.

Or maybe he wanted it all to fade to black.

* * *

**AN: **Aaah, end of the first chapter! You have no idea how happy I am to finally be making progress on this.

Oh, before anyone mentions Hungary being out of character- I tried to work her personality into the role I wanted her to play. Hopefully, my representation of her will improve as I go along. And trust me, Liechtenstein and Switzerland will come in again much later. They have a purpose.

Second chapter should be up within the next week, next Friday at the latest. I hope you enjoyed, please leave a review for me if you have anything at all to day!

-XC


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note:** Even without feedback, I will continue to update this story. Why? It has been stuck in my head for the past year. It needs to go somewhere. And really, I know I want to read it. So maybe after I write it, I can come back to it and fall into my own day dream all over gaain.

_The pairings in this story will include: Russia/America, Spain/Romano, Germany/Italy, Prussia/Canada, France/UK, and others to be announced._

_I will also be including characters based upon fan-depictions of Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales._

**Warnings: **Use of vulgar language and mentions of assault.

* * *

_"You." She started, venom dripping from her painted lips, "I told you. I told you, one more time, and there would be consequences. Do you see what you've done? You have insulted a customer. You have beaten a customer. You have shifted the balance of who feels dominant in this establishment and chased away guests! Do you know what that means? Do you have even the least bit of ability to process what that means? You dim-witted, worthless street rat! I will lose money because of this! One of my girls may be sold off because of this, to make up for the profit you just cost us!"_

_Alfred snarled, and tore his arm from her grip. "He was hurting her!"_

_"And I am the one who will handle these instances, not you and your self-righteous hero complex!" Mistress Elizaveta spat at Alfred, slapping the side of his face where a violet bruise was already blooming. Alfred bit his tongue, and stars flickered in his eyes. "This can not be forgiven. Wait in your cellar, until I decide what to do with you." She stalked from the room, dress swishing after her every step. Alfred stared at the floor, waiting for the starry night in his eyes to fade away, so that he could see again._

_Or maybe he wanted it all to fade to black._

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

If Alfred hadn't already known the number of floor boards that made up the cellar ceiling, he did now. He had squinted through the dim candlelight and traced the crevices in the wood for a few hours now, following the ragged lines as they trailed and swirled and cut off into the shadows of the rest of the room. He lay on his mattress, the damp seeping into his vest and the bare of his feet chilled to the bone. But he ignored it all as he waited in the darkness, eyes wide open and straining to see through the inadequate light, arms laid out by his sides with his palms facing up.

He fucked up.

Alfred F. Jones; again it was proved that his middle initial must stand for the curse.

He sighed and curled on to his side, grasping at his sheet and slipping it over his shoulders. He paused, huffed, and then pushed it down to wrap around his feet. Gloomy mood aside, his feet were damn freezing.

What had he done wrong? He understands that men come to this place for more than just casual sex, but also for the power-trip involved with being in charge. He understands that his actions will send men away, violent men who couldn't possibly stand to realize they can't always do whatever they wish. But it had been worth it, hadn't it? Hadn't he done the right thing? Lili had been curled up on the floor, pleading, trying so hard just to cover herself with the small wrap she had...he'd saved her, hadn't he?

Alfred grimaced and corded his fingers into his hair, tugging at the dirty strands until he could feel it hurt. Why couldn't he do anything right? He was going to cause so much trouble, maybe for others added onto himself. Maybe Matthew would finally be forced to take a whore's place, or Lili will be sold to a man even worse. And it would be his fault. He'd be hurting the ones he cares about, all because of his hot-headed need to _help_.

He loosened his grip and winced, bruised eye sore and swollen, the skin of his nose scraped and his lips split. Everything hurt. With a sad, choking sound, he glanced from his mattress to the old book sitting softly only a reach away. The title, once written in swirling letters of pure, glimmering black, was now faded to the point of illegibility. Alfred picked at the spine of the book and it slipped on the mattress' surface, resting at the level of his eyes. He ran his hand over the familiar cover, smiling at the nostalgia it inspired. He always remembered rays of sunlight peeking through a pristinely kept window when he felt the book's cover, as well as the sweet smell of fresh fruit and clean linen. And of course, there were the silhouettes in his brief memory, one a clean kept man with a dazzling smile and the other a plump woman with peculiar eyes. Alfred and Matthew decided this nostalgia must be a remnant of a time lost to them both, a time where they lived together in a happy place with the parents that gave them life.

Alfred let himself smile as he lifted the cover, opening to the first faded and time-stained page of the book. It was filled with criss-crossing lines and curious swirls, craggy mountains of zig-zags and mystery shapes of what could have been pirate ships. They had to be, considering the next page was decorated with a sprawling signature that started with the word _Captain._ In truth, it was the only portion of the signature that Alfred and his brother were ever able to decipher, the rest a sophisticated mess. The content of the book, however, if not faded or eroded by the salt of the sea, told the stories of an infamous pirate Captain, employed by a Beast and met at every angle by strife and adventure. Alfred had grown up engrossed in the tales. When he was younger, he would often act out the author's heroics with the women who once lived in the whorehouse. They would giggle and play along with his antics, happy to help the little orphaned boy enjoy a taste of childhood. Matthew was often roped into Alfred's games, cast most often as his right-hand mate.

This was a world in which Alfred wouldn't have to worry about the consequences of saving someone in need, like Lili. This was a world where Alfred wouldn't have to feel useless, where he could take care of his mates and take care of his brother. Pirates search for the treasures of the world, and with even the smallest piece, Alfred could pay off the life debt he and his brother owed.

"Alfred." His brother called from beyond the cellar door, voice low and his presence a complete surprise. Alfred slapped the book shut and pushed it away, taking his sheet from around his feet and throwing it over the book. He coughed once, twice, as he sat up on his mattress and scratched at the seams of his pants.

The door opened slowly, Matthew using his shoulder to fight against the stubborn wood. His face was downcast, feminine traces wiped away. He stepped inside the cellar and stopped at the edge of Alfred's bed, meeting his eyes.

"What was that, Al?"

Alfred leaned forward, "Mattie, you...I had to stop him, Lili was-!"

"We all know what he was doing, Alfred. We could all hear Lili yelling." Alfred grimaced at his brother's tired voice.

"Then why the fuck do you look so disappointed?"

Alfred waited with his teeth clenched, fingers burning in the fists he hadn't noticed he'd formed. Matthew stood hesitant for a moment. He blinked, clenched his fists, unclenched them. He decided only to sigh and step to the side, looking away from his brother and to the open door.

"You can come in," he called, and Lili poked her head into the room. Alfred moved to stand, but Lili rushed into the room and plopped herself on the bed in front of him, falling forward and wrapping her arms around him. She was wearing the same blouse, the same small wrap, but someone had replaced her skirt with another coloured green. It lacked the slit running from her ankle and up to her thigh. Alfred dropped his hands on top of her arms as she hugged him, and took them away as she pulled back.

"Alfred, thank you. I kept calling but no one would come, and then you burst in..." she whispered as she spoke, shaking from the weak force of her voice even still. Alfred hated when she shook like that. He grinned, one of his familiar sunburst smiles, and patted Lili's head.

"You don't have to remind me, I still have the bruises!" Alfred laughed, but Matthew and Lili only winced. "Haha...hm. It's okay, Lili. As long as you're alright." She looked so much like she wanted to cry, but she nodded at Alfred and cast her eyes down.

"I should make it up to you...I- I can't do very much, but-"

"Nope. No." Alfred folded his hands over Lili's mouth, smile still in place. Matthew coughed into his hand, a slight blush on his cheeks. _Pervert, _Alfred thought, _probably thought she was offering something dirty. _Although for all Alfred knew, she was. "I couldn't _not _help, you don't owe me a thing."

Lili blinked and covered Alfred's hands with her own, tears swelling in her eyes and racing down her cheeks. She nodded, pulled Alfred's hands away, and scrubbed viciously at her face. "Thank you. Mistress Elizaveta is beyond angry, but I am so happy." She smiled and gave Alfred one more hug, to which he responded in kind. When she pulled away and sat back on her knees, her mouth popped open with a startled sound. Both Matthew and Alfred cocked their heads.

"The trinket!" She recalled, reaching into her wrap and gently revealing the glass leaf in the palm of her hand. She stood quickly and thrust her arms out to Matthew, who stepped back a pace and raised his hands.

"I don't know what you're talking about.." he started.

"It's your twenty-second birthday, I've finally gotten you a present!" She opened her hands to reveal the glass leaf to a fumbling Matthew, "I was surprised to find it unhurt, but I'm proud to be able to give it to you. I bought it with my own savings!" Gingerly, Matthew held his own hands under Lili's, taking the trinket from her and bringing it close to his face. With her hands relieved of the small burden, Lili stepped back and found her place again on Alfred's mattress.

"It's...a leaf?" Matthew turned his head to his brother, hoping he'd have some kind of answer. Alfred's bruised face lit up with a grin.

"Remember last year, when we both drank for the first time and got piss drunk? Well, apparently Lili was made honorary nurse and you mentioned something about dreaming of a place you couldn't remember. You mumbled most of it, jumbled it around real good, but Lili thought it was important enough to ask me about it a few days later. I told her about those dreams you use to write about in your journal-"

"_You read my journal?"_

"-and how every time you wrote something about a red leaf that looked like a star. Lili decided she'd get you one for your next birthday!" Lili nodded happily, though Matthew was grumbling to himself and trying hard not to crush the glass in his palm (out of misplaced frustration, of course. How dare his brother read his journal?) With a sigh, he straightened himself and faced Lili with a smile.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Lili. Thank you. But next time, remember that it isn't a good idea to spend your savings on me, eh?"

"It's my pleasure. Ah...well, what matters is you like it! Besides, you don't really get gifts, do you?" Matthew paused a bit at that, ready to respond if not for Lili's sudden add-on. "Alfred, I'm sorry, I was so focused on the leaf that I didn't think to get you anything..."

Alfred grinned again, his earth-shattering smile that had the effect of stopping people dead in their tracks. "Don't worry about it! I don't need any gifts. But you should go rest, right?" Lili shifted on the old bed and folded her hands in her lap.

"Oh, I suppose..."

"You wouldn't want to give Mistress Elizaveta any more reason to be upset." Matthew smiled, the small kind of smile that made his eyes close, and moved to place the glass leaf gently on the curve of his pillow. "I can take you back upstairs, if you'd like?"

"Oh, no, that would be too much." Lili straightened her legs and bent to rise, struggling to move quickly in the long skirt she was in. She scurried to the door before Alfred or Matthew could argue any more, giving a bright smile with her hands on the doorknob. "I'm so glad to have both of you here." And with that, she left the dim light of the room. The brothers followed the sounds of her footsteps. When they reached the top, paused, and crossed through the door, all was silent. Both boys stared into the empty hall, the light outside brighter than the lamp hanging from their ceiling.

Alfred, ever impatient and uncomfortable with the silence, scratched at his arms absently. His brother was very good at giving the silent treatment. He never really thought twice about it, he could shut off his conversation with his brother with a simple switch. It had always been that way. Sometimes, when Matthew got tired of only being the first-mate, he would stop speaking with Alfred. At first, Alfred thought something was simply wrong with Matthew. Something must have been if he wasn't speaking! But then he noticed, he was still speaking, maybe even more so than he was before. Just not to him. Matthew had a peculiar method that planted a seed of upset in Alfred that would only grow and cause anxiety as he realized what was going on. If Matthew laid down for bed now, Alfred was sure the silence would start. He really fucked up, didn't he?

He didn't understand. And he didn't want to think about it. He looked back to the ceiling, the boards and the curves and the indentations mapped out in his head perfectly already. They wouldn't distract him this time, he knew them too well. But his book, his stories were different. Over and over, he could pull that ragged book into his hands and forget all that he needed to forget. He could read the stories someone had written about the Serpent Captain, the Captain with emerald eyes and the strike of a snake. Stories written in the curling letters that barely seemed to contain the terror, the adventure, the tales of grandeur. The way it described the sea...the eye of Amore, the reflection of midnight painted across the never-ending curve of her true form...Alfred dreamed of it rolling in waves of silk underneath his feet, floating just above and feeling the salty bite of sea foam jumping at his skin. The sun baking his eyelids, the ocean breeze playing in his hair.

Alright, he may have stolen a few of those descriptions verbatim. But to be on the sea...

"-and I'm not disappointed."

"What?" Alfred broke violently from his day dreaming, completely caught off guard and dumbstruck, staring at his brother's back with wide eyes. Matthew tensed. And he blinked. And he turned to his brother slowly.

"...you weren't even _paying attention_, were you?" Matthew frowned, eyes wide with exasperation, his arms falling limply to his sides.

"I. Of course I was."

"You...what could you have been thinking about that would keep you from hearing the entirety of my little speech?"

"Your speech?"

"My- I was saying- _how could you-?_ " Matthew stopped there, completely throwing any hope of receiving a sensible answer into the abyss. He sighed instead, heavily, and dropped onto the mattress across from Alfred with just as much weight. "Sometimes, you're too much, Alfred." He closed his eyes, his head tilted up to the candlelight.

Alfred crossed his arms, more or less uncomfortable. "Guess I'll still be hearing your voice, then."

Matthew scoffed. "You would have pouted and whined too much if I gave you the silent treatment."

"I don't do pouting. Or whining. I strategically convince you with my brotherly affection to give me brotherly attention." Matthew glanced at Alfred through one half open eye, before rolling it and falling back onto his bed. He threw his legs under his sheet, rolled onto his side and curled up without disturbing his pillow.

"Sure, Alfred."

That sounded like the end of a conversation.

Alfred stared over at the bed, watching his brother's sheet rise and fall with his breathing. The little glass leaf that Lili had put so much effort into was sitting carefully on the pillow, claiming the entirety of the small space as it's own. It really was both of their birthdays today. Their twenty-second, to be exact. Well, exact as they could be, considering they only had Miss Elizaveta's word to rely on. Not to say she couldn't be trusted, but she often added a few years onto the ages of her company, sort of a way to protect against any pesky legal issues. It wasn't often that the Royal Guard stopped into the house for anything business-like, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. Especially considering this was a Port, and it was always occupied by at least a few of the Guard, who monitored the ships that entered and left and traded goods among other regions. They were always expensive things, like fine fabrics and crystals mined from far off caves and mountains. Sometimes they brought in foreign foods, or rare treasures from other Kingdoms.

_If I could have even a handful of what they brought in_, Alfred thought, _I could buy us all out of this place. _And suddenly, a memory shot through his mind, a clear realization spoken in bold in the forefront of his thoughts.

_This was a world in which Alfred wouldn't have to worry about the consequences of saving someone in need, like Lili. _

_This was a world where Alfred wouldn't have to feel useless, where he could take care of his mates and take care of his brother. _

_Pirates search for the treasures of the world, and with even the smallest piece, Alfred could pay off the life debt he and his brother owed._

_As a pirate, Alfred could pay off the life debt he and his brother owed._

Maybe...just maybe, a crazy thought like that could prove to be everyone's salvation. It couldn't be too difficult, right? Alfred knew the port city pretty well, could find the dock most likely to be holding a pirate's ship. It would probably be far to the east of the city, tucked away in the slums and out of reach of the Guard. They probably bribed the factory owners, right? Bribed them to open their dock late at night. Maybe if he was lucky, Alfred could slink away without Mistress Elizaveta even noticing, without the Guard noticing and asking his business. He could find the dock, wait for a ship, board it any way he could. Convince them to let him stay.

It was risky, it was honestly a negative gamble, but he could try.

In the silence of the room, with Matthew sleeping lightly in the bed only a few steps away, Alfred reached under the mess of his sheet and pulled the old book of piracy into his lap. He opened it gently, flipped through the pages, ran his fingers along them softly...and tore one page from the binding with a flex of his fingers, catching the old fabric in a loose fist and placing it to the side.

He fucked up today. Alfred F. Jones; his middle name must stand for the curse.

But maybe he could change it. Maybe he could change things, fix things. Matthew and he weren't suppose to live like this, sleeping in the cold of a whorehouse cellar on damp mattresses and ratty sheets. They deserved better. Matthew deserved better. Hell, the girls deserved better. Maybe, maybe he could help them too. Maybe he really could help them all, maybe he could take them all away from here, maybe he really could be the hero he tried to be without being scorned for it.

Heart fixated and eyes blazing, Alfred crawled over to his brother as lightly as he could, careful to scoot by the creaky floorboards. He stopped at the edge of his mattress, and he reached his free hand forward to pull Matthew's sheet higher over his shoulder. He drew his hand back, and he whispered into the quiet room.

"This isn't the life for me, Matthew. It isn't for you either." He gripped the age worn leather-bound in his hands. "I'm going to chase these silly stories and make them mine. I'll find us gold any way I have to. Even as a pirate."

* * *

**AN: **Uh...so much for keeping up to date with this. I suppose I really am not good at this scheduled updates thing. I know I'll be updating, but I really can't promise when.

-XC


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Note: **I started this right after I posted the second chapter...but did I finish it soon after? Nope.

_The pairings in this story will include: Russia/America, Spain/Romano, Germany/Italy, Prussia/Canada, France/UK, and others to be announced._

_I will also be including characters based upon fan-depictions of Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales._

**Warnings: **Use of vulgar language.

* * *

_He fucked up today. Alfred F. Jones; his middle name must stand for the curse._

_But maybe he could change it. Maybe he could change things, fix things. Matthew and he weren't suppose to live like this, sleeping in the cold of a whorehouse cellar on damp mattresses and ratty sheets. They deserved better. Matthew deserved better. Hell, the girls deserved better. Maybe, maybe he could help them too. Maybe he really could help them all, maybe he could take them all away from here, maybe he really could be the hero he tried to be without being scorned for it._

_Heart fixated and eyes blazing, Alfred crawled over to his brother as lightly as he could, careful to scoot by the creaky floorboards. He stopped at the edge of his mattress, and he reached his free hand forward to pull Matthew's sheet higher over his shoulder. He drew his hand back, and he whispered into the quiet room._

_"This isn't the life for me, Matthew. It isn't for you either." He gripped the age worn leather-bound in his hands. "I'm going to chase these silly stories and make them mine. I'll find us gold any way I have to. Even as a pirate."_

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

The torn page lay crumpled on his mattress, the only blank page that had been passed over time and time again as Alfred reached the end of his book.

He rushed over in the quiet and grasped it in his hands, the book itself left at the end of Matthew's bed. He wouldn't really be needing it anymore, not if he could make stories of his own. He pulled the page taught and tried to smooth out the wrinkles, cursing silently to himself that he should have been more careful with it. He pressed it against the floorboards, rubbing it back and forth, fighting to smooth it out quickly before he could change his mind. When he thought it acceptable he dug his arm under his mattress and pulled out a half of a pencil. He scribbled what he could think to say, biting his lip in concentration and squinting his eyes, his face leaning in close to the paper.

_Mattie,_

_Don't freak out. I mean, you probably will, but at least I'm telling you not to. So try not to. I had an idea, and I'm going to see what I can do about it. I'll try to send letters. Don't worry. I can do this. I'm going to make things better! I'm heading off to the far eastern port. I don't remember the name, but I guess that's good because you can't show up and try to drag me back. I'm going to find us gold. We can leave, maybe even with Lili! I promise I'll be safe. _

_Your brother, Alfred._

He smiled with a twitch of his mouth in satisfaction. That sounded okay, right? He paused for a moment, thought about what he should do next...and flipped over the page.

_Lili,_

_I know you'll be safe. Matthew will protect you while I'm away. I'll come back, promise. Don't give up on that store-owner! Wear that ribbon the next time you see him, and good luck! Don't let him treat you badly, or give him a good ol' Alfred style punch to his dick. Don't let Elizaveta get you down either. _

_See you soon, Alfred._

_PS - Hope I can see that ribbon in your hair sometime!_

Completely satisfied by his inadequate explanations and goodbyes, Alfred crawled back to his brother's bed and slipped the page under his pillow, watching the rise and fall of the sheet carefully to make sure he wouldn't wake the other. Matthew shifted, and Alfred froze. _Shit_. But Matthew only burrowed deeper into his sheet, soft snoring soaking into the room. Alfred smothered his snickers with his hands. He briefly wondered how long it would be until he could see his brother again.

Would it be only weeks? Or would the time he spent away reach to years?

He slapped himself lightly before he could think any deeper, before he could scare himself out of the decision that he'd made. He couldn't afford to go back on this now. He turned back to his mattress, eyes quickly searching the surface. There wasn't really...anything he could think to bring. The only item of worth he owned was his own self, and he barely owned that. The clothes he wore were the best he could scrounge up, and the other pieces of clothes scattered here and there about his side of the room weren't worth the trouble of carrying. What could be bring that would benefit him?

Deciding nothing in his cellar home was good enough to go with him, Alfred crawled on his hands and knees to the cellar door, opening it carefully from the bottom and pulling it away slowly. He prayed to whatever out there capable of hearing him to keep the door from jamming, or making any sudden sounds. Luckily, his pleading paid off, and he threw a victorious fist in the air as he stood upright(and almost blew his entire escape by shouting). He slipped through the small crack of the open doorway, sucking his stomach in as much as he could and fighting to keep the sliver of light from landing on Matthew. He pulled the door close to closed behind him, unwilling to risk the sound of it closing tightly.

The hall ahead of him was quiet, only the faintest of busting heard from the top of the stairs. He ascended them slowly, with careful steps. When he reached the lone door at the top, he opened it the slightest bit and peered through the opening. The ballroom was dark, the smoke of the candle lights still curling through the air and reaching to the dark paint of the ceiling. The girls still loitered about, men hanging from their arms and slurring their words, drunken tongues slipping over thoughts they couldn't piece together. Alfred scanned the room as well as he could, not noticing Mistress Elizaveta among the closing crowd. Now was the time for a temporary rest, the only time for the busy establishment to calm down. She must have stepped out to count her earnings and allow the girls to dispel the guests who hadn't paid for a night. It was the perfect chance for Alfred to slip out relatively unnoticed.

Quickly, before the girls would reach the front doors with the sloppy guests trailing behind, Alfred made a mad dash along the length of the wall to the entrance hall. He slipped behind curtains when he could, kept his backside to the wall, turned the corner sharply and kneeled among the hanging coats. Truthfully, he probably hadn't needed to exercise such theatrics.

Of course, this brought about the first snag in his brilliant plan. How could he walk out with the coming group without being recognized?

"Wher's my...wh're's my, " the slurring man across the hall interrupted himself with a grimace, "coat?"

_Ooh, perfect. _Alfred smirked and reached beside him for the brown jacket and cap that hung among the others. He fought to push his arms through, frowning when the sleeves hung short of his wrists. This wasn't his in the slightest, was it really okay to take...? _Yes. It's fine to take it. _He needs it for a good cause, unlike the man who wore it in. Accepting that shoddy reasoning, Alfred squatted and waited for the men to enter the hall. They did so in an average group, and Alfred quickly made a show of standing and bumping into the nearest one.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized in a whisper. The man he had bumped into almost snarled, but his hazy eyes couldn't focus on Alfred long enough, so he scoffed and made his way to the door. Alfred followed after with his head bowed, the cap he'd borrowed pulled down over his eyes. He almost forgot to slip on his poor excuse for shoes as he reached the door and walked outside into the chill air. He paused when he made it onto the street, looking back at the building he'd known for the whole of his life.

It was inconspicuous enough. The bricks were painted brown to match the rest of the port city buildings, and the roof slanted precariously just as every other. It's size was notable, but often overlooked by passerby who refused to consider what that could mean. Aside from the size, the building completely lacked any windows, a telltale sign of what went on beyond the small front door. Alfred watched the door, almost daring it to open and for someone to come running out after him. This was too easy, wasn't it? Over twenty years, and all he ever had to do was walk out? It almost seemed impossible. But here he was, standing in the middle of the night street, the ocean breeze pulling at his hair and the jacket he didn't own.

It was better if he didn't push his luck, so Alfred turned and hurried away.

It was late, and the sky was cloudy above. Stars poked through the overcast but the moon was hidden in a coming storm. The horizon was dark and gloomy, the advancing clouds heavy and flashing every so often. They swirled in their natural violence and the ocean below them appeared grey and splotchy. The smell of the rain to come thickened the air and pasted Alfred's coat to his arms. He shivered, clenching his teeth and hugging his arms to his chest. He really did have a knack for good timing, all sarcasm implied. Starting his on-the-sea quest in the middle of a thunderstorm couldn't be a good idea.

The streets were empty, stores closed for the night, any ramshackle houses boarded up and locked. A barmaid wandered the perimeter of her workplace, darkening the hanging lamps and heading inside. The stone below echoed as Alfred took his quick steps, and the street curved sharply to the left. He was coming up to the old Inn, it's glow eerie as it reflected off of dark stone and a fog that had jus begun to settle. Alfred hugged himself tighter, but was glad for the obstruction; If the port was foggy, any foot soldier about would be easier to sneak around. Passing the Inn and making his way even further lead Alfred to the hub of all trading at this port, the merchant stalls. They were all emptied out, covered in cloth, some of their wooden pieces standing against slanting walls. Alfred Expected soldiers to start showing themselves, so he crossed in and out of stalls at a crouch as he made his way closer to the docks. He would have to walk out on the open boards for a while as he made his way closer to the areas frequented by notorious sea-farers. For now, he knew that if he looked out to the ocean on a night when there was no fog, he'd see lines of ships with their sails tied and their anchors dropped. Some belonged to foreign kingdoms, some to the Earl of another region.

And of course, some to the criminals at sea.

Generally, pirates and the like were not allowed to drop anchor at port cities under the rule of the Royal Family, but Alfred knew that this particular port city gave an exception to those that could pay. He also knew the most likely place for their ships to be lead to.

Thank you, drunk and horny men.

Speaking of: Alfred ducked under the sway of a tattered cloth, hidden behind one of the stalls. A few steps ahead, the sound of metal knocking against metal sounded, steps moving slowly through the fog. A man came into view for a few moments, his crimson coat a stark contrast to the cool colours of the darkened city. Alfred side-stepped as quietly as he could, crossing behind the soldier and settling behind another stall. He bit his lip as the soldier looked about, begging in his head for the man to step away. When he finally did, Alfred smiled to himself and knocked his fist against the stone ground.

"You!"

_Oh shit._

Alfred bolted from his hiding place, coat shuttering violently in the wind as he raced through the stalls. He had only spared a glance in the direction of the shout, noticed a flash of red and decided he needed to move his ass. Footsteps and clanging metal sounds followed after his heels. As he made it closer and closer to the far port, the sounds of chase faded into nothing, the world behind him nothing but fog. Ahead, the clouds had stretched across the ships at anchor, small rain droplets trickling down. Alfred caught himself on a post, forcing his sprint to come to an end. He bent at the waist, breathing heavily and clutching his chest. If there was one thing he had going for him, it was his speed.

He looked around.

"Uh...a pirate ship should be obvious, right?" he wondered aloud to himself, eyes darting out into the fog.

It didn't look like there was anything out there.

"Maybe...shit."

If he'd come all this way just to turn around, run back to the whore house because the dock was severely lacking a ship, Alfred would honestly rot in that cellar. He had to try something..._there!_

Tucked away under the over-hangings of a stall were six barrels, the labels scrawled into their sides sounding like a variety of foods. Alfred approached and moved the linen covering the barrels, glancing around before finding an initial carved into one of the barrel tops. _C.K. _He had no real idea where these barrels were going, but he could only hope the ship coming to take them would be just what he needed. He struggled to pry the top off, cursing under his breath and flinching at the splinters he was sure he just earned. Luckily, the only things inside were small sacks of what looked like pasta. He pulled them out and sent them on the barrel next to him, then carefully swung one leg into the emptied container.

This was just a little humiliating...Matthew would have slapped his own hand to his face and told Alfred he was being a child, being ridiculous, being completely insane. Alfred smiled because that was absolutely what he was being, and he only hoped it would turn out okay in the end.

With both feet now inside, Alfred pulled the bags of pasta in with him, crouched as low as he could in the cramped wood and secured the top above him.

* * *

**AN: **Not so happy with this chapter. It's mostly filler. Necessary, but honestly a bit boring and I took much too long to write it out.

But, thank you to everyone who's been showing interest in this story! I don't know when you can expect updates, but I can promise this story will be completed.

-XC


	4. Chapter 4

**Author Note: **This will still move a little slow, but here's where things are starting.

_The pairings in this story will include: Russia/America, Spain/Romano, Germany/Italy, Prussia/Canada, France/UK, and others to be announced._

_I will also be including characters based upon fan-depictions of Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales._

**Warnings: **Use of vulgar language.

* * *

_Tucked away under the over-hangings of a stall were six barrels, the labels scrawled into their sides sounding like a variety of foods. Alfred approached and moved the linen covering the barrels, glancing around before finding an initial carved into one of the barrel tops. **C.K.** He had no real idea where these barrels were going, but he could only hope the ship coming to take them would be just what he needed. He struggled to pry the top off, cursing under his breath and flinching at the splinters he was sure he just earned. Luckily, the only things inside were small sacks of what looked like pasta. He pulled them out and sent them on the barrel next to him, then carefully swung one leg into the emptied container._

_This was just a little humiliating...Matthew would have slapped his own hand to his face and told Alfred he was being a child, being ridiculous, being completely insane. Alfred smiled because that was absolutely what he was being, and he only hoped it would turn out okay in the end._

_With both feet now inside, Alfred pulled the bags of pasta in with him, crouched as low as he could in the cramped wood and secured the top above him._

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

Alfred was violently awoken as he fell to his side, pasta bursting into an uncomfortable mess as it caught between his head and the barrel. He winced, sharp little uncooked slivers poking at his cheeks and eyes. He hissed and struggled to bring his arms under his torso, pushing himself upwards slightly and trying to keep balance as the barrel rolled side to side.

"What was that sound?" a man's gruff voice filled the space beside the barrel, and Alfred felt a cool touch surge down his spine. _Shit._

_"_Your damn stunt just there probably damaged the supply - we're to load the cargo, not knock it around!" Another man's voice grumbled back. It sounded as if he was fighting with something, maybe carrying something heavy. Alfred figured he must be trying to lift one of the other barrels he had hid among last night. _Loading cargo...this is it!_ Alfred bit his lip to fight the giddy energy that filled him, grinning ear to ear and praising himself silently.

"Oi, of course - but why the hell are you trying to lift a barrel like that?" the first man to speak sounded amused, patronizing. Alfred barely noticed as his footsteps lead him closer to the barrel that he had knocked over. "Just give it a good _kick _up the ramp!"

Alfred's grin fell.

_Oh fuck-_

He had no time to prepare as a heavy boot met the side of his barrel with astonishing force, sending his hiding spot rolling wildly. He fell back and curled in tight on himself, arms stretched to push against the walls around him and feet struggling for purchase. He slowed, noting the telltale feel of an incline, and held his breath as he came to a stop...and then started rolling backward.

"This shitting barrel!" Alfred flinched as the boot met the barrel again, only this time it rested heavily atop the deathtrap. "Damn cook and his unnecessary cargo. We would do just well without more of this." This was spoken under the man's breath, almost too quiet for Alfred to pick up on. Cook, huh? That would make sense. They must be taking Alfred to the kitchen, hopefully where they would nestle him in among the storage and leave him be. He could climb out when they were all sleeping, and then...and then...

Alfred realized he hadn't really thought of what he would do after he found himself on the ship. Technically, he would be considered a stowaway, and those who took up space unwantedly on a ship (not to mention a pirate ship, if his plan played out accordingly) usually weren't treated very _kindly, _if the book he had kept for years was any indicator. He swallowed a lump rising in his throat, just as his barrel was hoisted into the air. He froze, laying heavily against the wooden boards and hoping he didn't raise any red flags.

"Why is this- ugh, so _heavy?_" The moved slowly, trudging forward. His boots echoed as they met the ramp and the wood underneath creaked and groaned. Alfred almost felt hurt - he wasn't that heavy, was he?

He tried to keep steady as the barrel shifted with each of the man's steps, unsteady in his arms. He heard the echo of the ramp change, become a much more hollow sound, and the incline he had noticed disappeared. He tried to follow the steps the man was taking, tracing the turns he took and just how far the distance was, but soon he realized it was no use.

All around him were the bustling, overbearing sounds of a ship at port. The storm that had come in the night had faded away, but the ship he must now have been on brought in it's own style of destruction. So much shouting, vulgar and demanding, and laughter ringing out in short bursts. Boots stepping here and there, all moving fast, all rushing - and voices near and far singing out to each other. For the first time, Alfred noticed that every voice - including the voices of the men loading cargo - held a particular accent to them.

Again the man's steps became unsteady, stopping short every few moments and jostling Alfred in the barrel. He descended a staircase, albiet a short one, and Alfred tried his best not to verbally cry out as his skull met with the wooden barrel over and over. Finally, the man came to a stop, and flipped the barrel vertically. Alfred flailed as he crumpled onto his side among the pasta sacks, and bounced painfully as his barrel was dropped to the floor.

"Shipment's in, Cook!" The man shouted into the room, the voices from above mumbled and quieted but still load enough to be a nuisance. "Where the hell is he?" Alfred followed the steps made as his carrier searched what must be the kitchen. They sounded confused, moving back and forth in the same directions. Or, what Alfed assumed to be the same directions. It was hard to tell when he was uncomfortably buried in a barrel. The man grunted, clicked his teeth and ascended the stairs that he has just brought Alfred down, slamming a rickety door shut behind him.

The kitchen fell into silence.

Alfred blinked with each second that passed by, counting to himself.

What should he do now?

Getting onto the ship had become the easiest step in his master plan. He had thought that they might search the barrels, assure themselves of what was inside, but they hadn't even bothered. They carried Alfred onboard without a second though. Alfred, however, suddenly seemed to have too many second thoughts. How the hell was he suppose to secure a place with the crew? These people must have earned their place over time, must know each other like they know the curl of the waves in a storm. Alfred was - is - a complete, unwelcome stranger. Hell, he didn't even know what exact ship he'd landed himself on!

Alfred sighed and his breath hitched, a sack pressing abrasively into his ribs. This seemed more and more like a bad idea as time passed...but he couldn't turn back now, right? The sack pressing into him was threatening to burst. He had to get out of the barrel.

Steeling his nerves and silencing his anxieties, Alfred twisted himself upright, careful to avoid the broken bits of pasta littering the open space between he and the sacks. He pulled his feet underneath of him gently and slowly straightened his knees, hands pressing up against the lid of the barrel and twisting it open. He poked his eyes over the barrel's rim, staring out into the ship.

He was definitley in the kitchen , below the deck, tucked back in what seemed to be a pantry. Old and weak looking shelves surrounded him and the other barrels, and produce hung on knotted rope from the ceiling. Garlic, onions, maybe lettuce? And slipping in as a soft trail was the smell of sauce, warm and inviting. Alfred's stomach protested it's confinement, yearning for whatever was cooking. He licked his lips and surveyed the area.

No one in sight.

Carefully, he raised himself from the barrel, placing the lid on another barrel beside him. He did so quietly, and brought one of his legs over the side of his barrel, and then the other. The sacks of pasta settled into the empty space his body had made. The kitchen remained silent. Alfred thanked his lucky stars.

He tiptoed forward, past the shelves of the pantry and up to the next open area. He paused and leaned forward, peering into the room ahead. More makeshift shelves, stocked with a variety of loaves of bread, and fruits in different stages of life. One of the shelves dripped with what seemed like some type of meat, but from the off putting look of it, Alfred didn't think he wanted to know any more about it. In the center of the room, it looked like there was some kind of makeshift stove (a cauldron looking thing filled with trash, smoking and flaming. Something like that really shouldn't be on a ship, right?) And a pot hanging from chains above it.

Alfred approached the hanging pot, and reached to look into it. He was assaulted by the most delicious smell, and his stomach jumped in anticipation. He licked his lips and frowned. He didn't see a ladle anywhere...

Shouting above startled him away from the hanging pot, and he fell heavily into the nearest wall as the ground shifted below. More shouting, and Alfred clung to whatever he could as the ship turned and crawled with the strength of the wind. They were setting sail. Alfred really couldn't back out now. The pot he had just been standing by swayed with the movement of the ship on the waves.

_"Ah!"_ A loud gasp, a crash and thud of supplies hitting the ground. Alfred spun to face the source, adrenaline and fear rushing through his veins. His stance shifted to be defensive as his frantic gaze landed on the wide eyes of another young man standing under a wooden arch. His skin was tanned, his eyes a bright and sunny brown, and a lock of auburn hair curled defiantly atop his head. A mess lay at his feet, and he looked ready to run - or scream. Alfred panicked.

"Shit, please-!" The man opened his mouth to scream and Alfred abandoned the wall, rushing forward with his hands out. He trapped the man's head in his hands, mouth covered. He struggled and twisted but Alfred fought to keep him quiet. "_Please_, shit, don't scream!"

The man flailed, and suddenly the missing ladle was in his hand and repeatedly connecting with Alfred's head. He flinched and hissed with every hit, fighting the urge to hit back. He couldn't fuck this up now! "Please, I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to be hurt -_ow_ \- just listen!"

The scared man paused, eyes still wide and quickly tearing up, but his ladle waited suspended in the air. He nodded shakily and squeezed his eyes shut. Alfred exhaled and released his hold on his mouth, bringing his hands back to himself. He waited anxiously, posed to cover the other's mouth again. "Please...will you listen?"

Slowly, golden brown eyes opened, and the ladle dropped. Alfred took his chance to glance over the rest of the man. His shirt was a stained linen, open at the chest and tucked into brown pants that folded at the shins. His boots were laced tight, the leather decorated with intircate floral patterns. And what seemed like an apron was wrapped around his front and knotted tight at his wiast. This must be the cook.

The cook shuddered. "You aren't suppose to be on board - you aren't a crew!" His voice was about as feminine as Alfred expected from the man's appearance, but accented curiously. At the end of every hard sound, he almsot seemed to tilt it up again, adding an "a" as a flare. Alfred had never heard it before.

"No, I'm not," Alfres fought to find something to say. This day was turning into nothing but one struggle after another. "I was in one of the barrel's. I...I'm from the port city." Fuck. What else was he suppose to say? "Please, I need...I had this book, and...my brother is back there, in the brothel, and-!" The cook's eyes sparked.

"_Fratello?_ In a brothel?" Alfred absently noted the curl of the man's accent, and hoped this was going somewhere.

"Yes - I want to get him out, buy him out, but I have no money-"

The fear returned to the man's expression. "You want to steal!"

"No!" Alfred shouted, and then bit his lip. No one else could hear him. If he was heard, it would ruin any chance he had. He had to convince this man that he wasn't a threat, that he was worth it, that he should keep him a secret. He was thinking as fast as he could. He didn't know what to say, but he had to win over the cook. If he had at least one crew member on his side, that would be good, right? He could prove himself to the small foreign man, it should be easy enough. Hopefully. He returned his voice to a hush. "No, I don't want to steal. I mean, not from your ship! I, I want..." Suddenly, the cook shoved the ladle in Alfred's face and stepped towards him. Alfred raised his hands and stepped back.

Silence unfolded.

Seconds ticked by, Alfred's eyes locked on the other's.

"What is your name?" The cook asked, voice shaking but demanding all the same.

Alfred swallowed. "Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

The cook stared Alfred up and down, taking in his appearance and all that he seemed to be. "I...am Feliciano, Veneziano." Nervously, the cook turned his gaze to the staircase, frowning. The ladle in his hand faltered. "Your brother? You're here for your brother?"

Alfred nodded vigorously.

"Ve..." a nervous sound escaped the cook, and he lowered the ladle again, focus returning to Alfred. "You...you seem nice. Why are you here? Tell me now and quickly."

This was it. Alfred had to make it sound good, he had to placate and convince the shaking man in front of him, but he still had to tell the truth. He dropped his hands to his sides and Feliciano gripped his ladle tighter. Alfred waited only a short moment, piecing together what he could before he spoke it. "I...I had a book, growing up, written by someone. I don't actually know who wrote it, the name was worn away. They talked about themselves but not a name - that's not important, though -but it talked about a Sea Captain, a pirate Captain and what he did throughout his time on the ocean. He talked about riches. Every amazing thing he gained. And I thought, if I could have even a little bit of that, I could pay my brothers debt to the brothel we lived in. We could leave it and actually make a name for ourselves. Have a home, jobs maybe, we could be free-" Alfred was cut off by a sharp jab of the ladle. Feliciano looked completely torn, his emotions playing wildly and openly about on his face. His eyes flickered all over Alfred, searching, worried and afraid. He wasn't sure what to do. So...Alfred took a chance.

"You can take me up to your Captain, if you want to. But thank you for listening, Feliciano." He flashed the other a genuine, blinding grin, his cheeks pulled taut and his eyes shining. It was the type of smile he used around Lili when she needed comfort, when she needed to see that everything was alright.

He only hoped he made Feliciano believe that.

* * *

**AN:** I am so, so sorry. I've had so much happen to me lately that updating this story wasn't even crossing my mind. I still plan on continuing and finishing it, but I have no idea how my updates are going to go. For now, here's the next chapter I've finally finished! Thank you for all of the reviews I've received, I'm really happy with how you all are responding to my story! I'm glad it's something you like and are excited about! I'll try to meet your expectations, and give you a fic to remember.

See you soon!

-XC


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